


Hold Me Still

by lantia4ever



Series: Of Overqualified Hands & Pi Figures (IronStrange) [7]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, BAMF Tony Stark, Christmas, Cloak of Levitation (Marvel), Emotional Hurt, Fluff, Hurt Stephen, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, If You Squint - Freeform, Infinity Beer, M/M, Magic sucks, Mild Language, Mission Gone Wrong, Supremefamily, The Cloak is the best bro, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Trapped, Vision being Vision, and maybe gets one, inaccurate depictions of magic, lots of softness, oblivious Stephen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-20
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-13 15:36:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15367764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lantia4ever/pseuds/lantia4ever
Summary: Just days away from Christmas Eve, duty calls for the newly allied Sorcerers and Avengers. As Stephen departs with Tony to tackle the threat, one wrong step later he realizes the alliance might be quite short-lived.But one should never underestimate the force that is Tony Stark.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hi everyone! ^^
> 
> So, I have read and noted all your lovely comments and suggestions and as you can probably tell by simply looking at the tags so far...I failed you all :D Because while I was pondering about angst and fluff, my good ol' best friend Hurt & maybekindasometimesComfort decided to pay me a visit :3  
> But before you ritually sacrifice me to the angst gods, I must say that I had this image of a sofffffft IronStrange hug stuck in my head for weeks and I totally intend to deliver exactly that! ...I also might have had a completely fluffy idea in mind first, but then on my way home Angst backed me off into a dark alley and threatened to murder ten thousand puppies if I refused to surrender to the angst train. 
> 
> With that said, expect much angst, such fluff ^^ And also bear witness to me promising the next and final installment before IW is going to be PURE. FLUFF. There. I said it. Pure. Fluffffff. (because we all know IW is going to be bad no matter what my deranged mind comes up with :D)
> 
> Enjoy! <3
> 
> PS: And yeah. It's a Christmas fic. In July. Because fuck it, it's too hot outside and I sure as hell enjoyed writing something _cold_. Not to mention it fits the timeline...somewhat...I _think_ ;D

“Seriously? Evil gnomes don’t have the decency to lay off of evil work during winter holidays?! I’m shocked,” Tony grumbles, inspecting the fancy written text on the ancient parchment.

“We already dealt with…the evil gnomes,” Wong frowns at the ridiculous distinction and Stephen does the same.

They’re not gnomes, they are tiny humanoid magical creatures that…dress like gardeners. Okay. Maybe they are gnomes. But they aren’t evil – they just have a seasonal proclivity for bad pranks.

“It’s their magical traps we have to deal with now.”

Tony looks at Wong, eyes narrowing with every second. “Sounds very _magical_ to me. How can we – the simple mortal muggles – help you out?”

“Magic isn’t an answer to everything,” Stephen sighs, snatching the parchment carefully away from Tony. “We can disable the traps, but we could use some good old fashioned _muggle_ privileges to get to the places the traps are at,” he explains.

“Let’s just say people might be more keen on letting the Avengers inside their supersecret military base in Alaska than…two hobo wizards,” Wong smirks.

“Speak for yourself, hobo wizard,” he glares at his partner in magical crime.

“Also, neutralizing this kind of magic is very taxing so in any case, we could use some back-up,” Wong turns to Tony.

The engineer looks at them as if expecting more backstory to come pouring out of their mouth before raising his eyebrows. “That’s it? Okay then, let’s go,” he shrugs.

“That was easy,” Stephen quips.

“What…were you expecting me to say ‘no, fuck off and deal with your magical business on your own’? What would the whole point of having this Avengers – Order of the Phoenix alliance be then?”

“Oh I expected you to lay down some completely unnecessary but completely _you_ kind of conditions…like ‘okay, we will help you, but you must all attend the Christmas party at the Compound’ - ”

“You _are_ attending the Christmas party at the Compound, I don’t have to make that a condition to anything,” Tony glares at him.

“ – and participate in the Secret Avengers Santa - ”

“It’s a new tradition. New team, new traditions!”

“ – _and_ accept your absolutely ridiculous donation to the Order’s funds.”

Tony slowly exhales, the glare intensifying. “If donations offend you, you can think of it as _investment_.”

“An investment you know will have a zero return? That’s a donation and we are not a charity.”

“Fine, think of it as a gift. It’s Christmas after all!” he grins, but the smile fades as he looks around the Sanctum. “Speaking of which, this place could use some decorations. Don’t worry!” he raises his hands. “I suck at decorating…but Vision loves it. I’ll send him in here while we go hunting for gnomes!”

“The _gnomes_ are not a problem anymore,” Stephen rolls his eyes, giving up the argument.

“Yeah yeah yeah, the traps. Whatever.”

“It’s settled then,” Wong decides, giving Stephen an unnervingly knowing expression. “Me and the kid will handle these three, you take the rest,” he points at the map on the table with the traps location highlighted.

“Whoa now! Peter is helping May with baking! I promised her no Avengers business during the holidays. You wanna argue with May?”

Wong smirks, raising his chin. “I don’t have to. Turns out he’s done with the baking and is allowed to go hang out with his sorcerer friends.”

Tony doesn’t look persuaded. And Stephen doesn’t either. There’s definitely something fishy about that statement.

“Did you _lie to May_? Because if you did, nobody can save your soul now,” Tony squints at the still smirking sorcerer.

“ _Me_? No,” is Wong’s reply that says it all.

“I could call Rhodey.”

“And break the kid’s heart three days before Christmas? Be my guest.”

“Fine!” Tony also gives up. “I’ll go suit up and meet you at the first location,” he winks at them and turns to leave.

He watches Tony jump down the stairs, the attention not escaping Wong in the least.

“What?” he narrows his eyes at the sorcerer, daring him to speak his mind.

“Nothing,” Wong replies with a perfect grin, holding Stephen’s stare. “Just wondering.”

“About _what_?”

“How much more obvious _you’ll_ have to get for _you_ to notice.”

Stephen frowns, breaking the eye contact as he quickly goes over the events of the day to figure out what the hell does the cryptic sorcerer mean this time. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he bites back, eventually coming up empty.

Wong chuckles, creating a portal to an all too familiar street in Queens. “Exactly. See you tomorrow,” he disappears into the portal before Stephen can even think up a comeback.

“Obvious…,” he muses out loud. “The hell is that supposed to mean?” he glances down at the Cloak, who only curls up his hems in an apparent shrug.

 

* * *

 

 

By the time Tony touches down at the rendezvous point, Stephen has already traced the exact location of the first trap and set up a few protective wards – just in case.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding about the military base part,” Tony says as the Iron Man helmet snaps open and disintegrates away in a manner Stephen’s never seen it do before. “What’s up with that?”

“This used to be…a gnome territory. Way before humans conquered fire, so let’s just say they don’t appreciate the current company,” Stephen explains, the two of them walking to the entrance.

“Understandable. Got a text from Peter few minutes ago,” he brings up conversationally. “I know he’s obsessed with magic – as much as science, mind you – so a magical fieldtrip is right up his excitement alley but who would want to spend two days taming wild magic with Wong? I mean, he’s cool…but two days alone in his company is a snooze fest waiting to happen.”

Stephen scoffs, eyeing the engineer. “You’re just saying that because you’re jealous.”

“That’s ridiculous.”

“You’re jealous because the kid prefers hanging out with Wong in the Sanctum as opposed to with you in your lab,” he smirks at Tony’s momentarily offended expression.

“Now you’re just making things up. Peter loves hanging out with me in the lab. There’s no way I am beaten by I-don’t-know-what-memes-are Wizard Wong.”

“And since when are _you_ the Master of Memes?”

Tony suddenly mirrors his growing smirk, stopping by the gates to the base. “Since the nineties. I have created an alarming number of them myself back in the days.”

“Really,” Stephen utters sarcastically, but seeing Tony beam even more at that, his smirk falters.

“Yep. Not to mention the assortment of Stark memes that other people made up. Then there’s dank memes and doge memes. You guys might be the Masters of the Mystic arts, but memes are most definitely _my_ natural milieu.”

“I know memes,” Stephen argues, glaring at the all too happy engineer.

“Like what?”

“I remember Bob. From Youtube?”

“Uhuh. That’s very 2013 of you.”

“Can I help you?” a fully decked out soldier fella asks, watching them both suspiciously from the other side of the gate.

Tony stares at him in victory for a moment longer before turning to the soldier. “Oh most definitely yes.”

And just like that, Stephen witnesses Tony snap into Stark mode and argue their way inside the base.

 

 

Few hours later, Stephen lowers his hands with a sigh, breathing heavily. Cases like these really make him appreciate the years he’s spent studying to be a surgeon.

Years that all but went out the window, wasted after the accident.

As it turns out, his hard-earned ability to focus and perform tasks with precision under pressure is however exactly what a Master of the Mystic Arts needs on a daily basis.

He won’t ever be able to operate on anyone ever again to use those traits and implement all the medical knowledge he’s spent many a sleepless nights studying, but none of it is wasted after all.

“Is it done?” Tony comes up to him, his voice startling him a little.

He told him to be quiet while he’s disarming and sealing away the magical trap but he didn’t think Tony would listen. In fact, he didn’t think Tony was even capable of not saying anything for hours straight.

“We’re good?” he asks, putting a steadying hand on his arm.

Stephen takes a moment to calm down, noting the worried look Tony regards him with. “One done, two more to go.”

“Yeah, how about no,” Tony purses his lips and with the flare of defiance, he walks him out of the storage, up the stairs and back into the chilly afternoon day outside. “You need a break so let’s find a lounge in here somewhere and kick back before the next magically draining exercise, Doctor Wizard.”

He can’t even really argue with him, so he lets himself be guided through the base towards one of the main buildings. The fresh air feels amazing in his lungs and the thought of a little rest before they tackle the next trap is more than welcoming.

The soldiers and officials give them odd looks as they pass them by and any other day Stephen wouldn’t think twice about it. Right now, his mind is scattered, magic still sizzling around his fingers and with Tony’s armored hand casually tugging him along with him he’s a little self-conscious of the unknown and not exactly friendly stares.

Tony gives zero fucks.

He strides through the building like he’s the general of this place, giving out orders left and right until they are led into what looks like an Officer’s lounge and an awe-stricken Lieutenant makes them coffee and a snack.

Nobody says no to Tony Stark. Nobody dares. And that one grumpy looking Major that tries receives a burning glare and after thinking twice about it, he backs off.

Tony is a force of nature on good days – and when he’s on a mission, even nature cowers in fear. His very own years of experience as both Tony Stark and Iron Man almost make it look easy as he does it. So effortlessly – the kind one only gets through experience alone.

Stephen relaxes into the rather uncomfortable armchair, sipping on the military grade black coffee, his thoughts lingering on Tony.

It happens a lot lately. No matter how much he tries to avoid it or ignore it, Tony just has a way of sneaking up on him in his mind and much like his living and breathing counterpart, he’s too stubborn to leave.

“Welp, guess I’m completely useless here,” Tony sighs, plopping onto the sofa opposite of him, the armor left behind by the door.

For a man likely capable of anything he sets his brilliant mind on, Tony sure has a way of engulfing himself in self-depreciation. A _lot_.

“Douchebag, I wouldn’t be able to get in here if you didn’t negotiate our way in.”

“Pffft, I used my natural charm, big deal. And then I stared into a wall for three hours while you did all the work!”

“Exactly. We both did what we do best. Speaking of what we do best, I’m sure you have invented at least one thing in your head during those three hours.”

Tony’s lips quirk at that. “Two, actually. But there’s only so much inventing I can do in a day. What am I supposed to do on the next watch duty?”

“I don’t know. Play Farmville on your phone.”

“Nobody plays that shit anymore. And I can totally spend three hours of my life doing something better than playing an awful social media game, thank you very much.”

“Spend them doing what, staring into a wall?”

“Staring at _you_ for three hours would still be time better spent than playing Farmville.”

“Well I would damn well think so!”

Tony chuckles, cringing at the taste of the coffee he also sips on. “I’ll just continue inventing I guess. Got a big armor overhaul in progress.”

“Ah. Is that the secret project Rhodey mentioned weeks ago? That has you holed up in your lab all nights long?”

“Maaaaybeee? It uhhh…kinda had me flying in to Wakanda for a day, too.”

Stephen alerts to that bit of information, eyebrows shooting up.

“To meet T’Challa,” Tony quickly adds. “And his sister, Princess Shuri? I’m telling you, that girl is the future of technology. She’s absolutely brilliant. Probably smarter than me already. Peter would like her, they could talk science and memes and…I’m gonna make that happen. Yes!” he brings up his phone, tapping something into it frantically. “Huh, I’m full of great ideas today.”

“Indeed,” Stephen hums and it comes out only faintly sarcastically.

He sinks even further into the armchair and lets his mind clear and settle back into peaceful serenity. The sound of Tony’s voice is calming and reassuring and Stephen lets himself bathe in it while recovering his strength.

It sooths him to the core about as much as it completely terrifies him.

 

* * *

 

 

The next location is way easier to access. It’s an old factory complex up in Manitoba, Canada and the security guy and his dog keeping squatters and junkies away from it lets them in without Tony needing to switch to his authoritative tone…which is a pity. Stephen likes the tone.

They descent to a large basement area that was probably used for storage for whatever used to be produced in the factory above and Stephen can feel it – the magic vibrating within the walls, cackling in the air. Ancient and powerful.

Not malicious, not friendly either. Just magic – neutral at its best.

He zeroes in on the center of the room where the trap has been set up. It’s invisible to the naked eye to both humans and sorcerers, but the latter can pick up on it instantly.

This one will be a bit trickier. In the military base, the trap was of a spiritual nature – any human caught up in it would have likely experienced some serious emotional distress or pain. This one is more on the destructive side.

One wrong move and it could be lethal.

“Alright. Looks like your magical alarm just went off so I’ll leave you to it and…go be quiet over there,” Tony tells him, backing off to a corner.

Stephen just nods, already focusing on the trap’s magic and ways he can best seal it away. His hands move in a flurry of gestures he practiced for weeks in Kamar-Taj and the dark room comes alight with the outburst of his own magic.

It intertwines with the magic laid out in the area creating a spectacular clash of colors as he begins to disable the trap.

He moves in a circle around the source of it, observing it carefully.

“Uhhhhhm, Stephen?” he hears Tony say, alarmed. “Is that supposed to happen?”

He rolls his eyes, not looking toward the engineer. “Yes, Tony, this is completely normal, just like before.”

“I don’t mean this, I mean _that_!”

Stephen glances sideways, seeing Tony pointing at the ceiling. He looks up in time to see bright purple shapes spreading all across the concrete ceiling and that is _so not supposed to happen_.

He’s triggered a second trap when he started moving around, one he didn’t realize was in here. The one on the ground emitted so much magic that it hid the presence of the other.

Cursing, he tries applying his sealing magic upward with one hand to stop the trap from going off and winces. The trap tugs painfully at his magic as if attempting to leech it out of him and that’s where he knows this is going to go south fast.

“Okay, you need to get out of here, now!” he spits through gritted teeth backing off from the center of the room.

“What’s happening?!” Tony asks instead.

The traps’ magic is angrily flaring around now, pushing back against his own. Purple and green eating away at the orange.

“Now, Tony! Get the h - ”

The ceiling burns in a blinding purple light that swallows the walls and the floor and a horrifyingly loud crack splits the concrete apart.

There’s nothing he can do but watch as the magic channels around him and explodes.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone! ^^
> 
> Since I hate cliffhangers myself, I couldn't let you guys bite your nails for too long, so here's the next chapter <3 Time for some of the promised hurt O.o
> 
> Enjoy :)

When he comes to, the first thought on his mind is how the hell is he not dead. And immediately after, it turns to wishing he _was_ dead.

The pain that ripples through his body is like nothing he’s ever felt before. Not after the accident, not in the Dark Dimension, not ever. It’s like every fiber of his body and soul is being pulled apart in a slow and agonizing stretch of magic.

He takes a ragged breath and screams, the sound deafening to his own ears. Desperately, he reaches out to something, anything to ground himself, to make the pain stop. His fingers curl around something in a crushing grip but it’s not enough.

His mind blanks out as everything surrenders to the agony and when the darkness comes back he embraces it and wishes to never surface from it again.

But since when does he ever get what he wants.

The next time he drifts back to consciousness, the pain is still there but dulled, no longer making him feel like disintegrating into atoms.

He can finally focus, noticing that other than the pain caused by the trap he seems to be otherwise unhurt. In fact, he’s rather comfortable, surrounded by warmth and his head laid out on something soft.

“Stephen?”

 _Tony_. Of _course_ he would stick around through a magical catastrophe instead of listening to him for once and running for cover.

He cracks his eyes open with a groan that comes out more like a whine and finds himself staring up into widened hazel eyes of the engineer hovering above him, illuminated by an orange glow…like…a fire?

Following the source of the warmth, he squints into the dancing flames to his right.

“Are you…burn’n the Cloak?!” he blurts out, hoarse and pain-filled.

“Really? Asshole? You almost go supernova and the first thing that comes pouring out of your mouth is if I’m burning the Cloak?!” Tony retorts, keeping his voice low but still angry. “It’s fucking freezing out here so yeah I’m burning the Cloak! He doesn’t mind since it turns out he’s not exactly flammable.”

Stephen observes the Cloak that true to Tony’s words is on fire, but not actually burning away. Another weird thing he didn’t know about the Cloak…and this is most definitely not how he planned on finding out.

The Cloak is crumpled on the floor next to two golden and crimson pillars made off of Tony’s armor that seem to be the only thing keeping them safe from getting crushed by who knows how many tons of concrete is currently on top of them, leaving just enough space for the three of them and for Tony to be sitting up.

“That doesn’t look v’ry safe,” he whispers, trying to control his breathing.

“I’m an engineer, remember? We’re good for now. There’s a pillar right behind me and the Cloak was almost able to squeeze two floors up through the rubble over there so we’ve got air incoming too. Pretty good as far as getting boxed underneath a ten story building goes. Speaking of which, what the fuck happened?”

Stephen focuses on Tony’s surprisingly calm and steady voice and lets his memory wander back to his failed attempt at sealing the trap. The _traps_.

“Th’re was anoth’r trap,” he mumbles, his brain refusing to provide many more detail of what happened after the traps went off. “An ‘splosion…”

“You don’t say,” Tony scoffs. “Having been almost blown up a few times I can tell you right now this wasn’t your usual kinda explosion, you know, missiles, grenades, C4…this felt like a fucking star blowing right next to us!”

Sounds accurate enough. The destructive trap would definitely have a similar effect with all the lights and the big boom…but how are they still alive?! The second trap only affected him since he’s the one who triggered it but the first one should have obliterated anything in the vicinity.

He wouldn’t be able to put up any shields even if he wanted to and Tony’s armor could have only protected one of them…so he should really be dead.

“How…?” is all he manages to ask, still trying to keep the pain at bay.

“Well, let’s just say I’m officially never going to listen to FRIDAY when she tells me I shouldn’t test unfinished tech in the field. That super secret armor project I’ve been working on? Saved our asses right here.”

Stephen frowns, not able to imagine how exactly could any version of Tony’s armor protect both of them from a lethal spike of wild ancient magic, but he’ll take it. His brain is far from capable of solving complicated problems right now.

He grits his teeth and snaps his eyes shut as a wave of shooting pain ripples through the entirety of his being, hand tightly squeezing what he now realizes is Tony’s own.

“’m sorry,” he whimpers, hating the very sound of his voice. He can’t focus on anything and he hates that too. “T’ws my f’lt,” he adds incoherently.

“It’s the fucking gnomes’ fault! Completely harmless, bad pranks…my ass!” Tony complains, his tone strained in a way that makes Stephen force his eyelids open to observe the man, but his shadowed expression reveals nothing. “Not that it matters. We just have to get out of here…could really use one of those fancy portals of yours but something tells me that’s not going to happen, is it? What did the trap do to you?”

“S’ the magic…it’s…uh…it’s draining t’ magic…”

“Right. Shit. So that’s a no to fancy portals. I would have called Wong to come bust us out, but the signal isn’t getting through.”

“In’rfer’nce...,” Stephen explains.

“Yeah, I figured,” Tony breathes out and holds Stephen’s head against his abdomen as he shifts his sitting position before laying it back into his lap. “How’s the pain? I’ve got some happy stuff in my med kit I gave you about two hours ago…not really sure about the dosage since I’m the wrong kind of doctor for that, but there’s a shot or two left.”

That would explain why he no longer feels like dying every five seconds. Two hours ago…so they are stuck here like this for at least that and who knows how long it’ll be before they get out.

If they get out.

Once the painkiller stops working it’s only going to get worse again. Just the memory of his first awakening rises a bile to his throat. He doesn’t know how long he can withstand the trap’s effects. Not long. And unless Wong or some other sorcerer comes to their rescue and soon, he’ll be in trouble. “S’kay…save ‘t f’r lat’r.”

Tony doesn’t look convinced by the weak response but nods, burying his free hand in Stephen’s hair.

The gentle contact is such a harsh contrast to the pain it almost makes him cry. Or maybe it does, because the fingers combing through his sweaty locks move to caress his cheeks, wiping the tears away without comments. He tries letting go of Tony’s other hand, finally aware enough to realize his deathly hold must be quite painful but Tony doesn’t let him, sneaking his hand back into the crushing grip as soon as Stephen moves it to latch onto his robes.

A sob bubbles up to the surface and any other time he would feel embarrassed. With the pain taking up almost everything he’s capable of feeling, there’s just no space for it though.

“Shhhhh, it’s okay,” Tony quietly coaxes him. “FRIDAY must have sent for the cavalry the second she lost contact with me so there’s somebody on the search and rescue up there for sure. Just gotta hang in there a lil’ longer, yeah? I’m right here. And the Cloak is all nice and cozy over there, see?”

Stephen glances at the Cloak, who flutters in response, still not at all bothered by being on fire.

“We’ll be outta here in no time. And then you can berate me for letting Vision decorate the Sanctum – I wasn’t kidding you know? I had tons of left-over decorations from the Tower – one more over the top than the next – and I told him to use _all_ of them.

So be prepared for a lot of glitter, lot of lights and a big electricity bill at the end of the month. Which shouldn’t be a problem since you’re totally accepting the gift. Charity, pffft. I made a bet with Wong that I’ll have a scientific theory explaining the portals by the end of summer – and I don’t, so I’m paying up. And Peter decided to add in the current and future contents of the swearing jar to it, too.

It was supposed to be his…college fund? Wait, nope, he doesn’t need one. Snack money then. Snacks for college fund. But he said he doesn’t need it so, there you go. And try arguing with the kid, he’ll just ignore you or give you the squinty eyes, thinking you’re testing him or something. You know what I’m talking about.”

Stephen does. Once Peter decides on something, it’s nearly impossible to change his mind about it. Well, it is too much trouble to try either way.

“He’s inviting Ned to the party by the way so get ready. If you thought Peter could talk a deaf guy into hearing then expect your ears to literally fall off. He’s not your typical side-kick…hell if I knew what he is, but he’s something. Definitely. Oh and the dress-code is casual. You even think about wearing this crap and I will tear it off of you – and not in the fun way, mind you. Go on, tell me you’re the Sorcerer Supreme and that you’d like to see me try. I’ll just have to remind you I have a sneaky superspider teenager and a guy with the Mind stone on my team. You’re a badass wizard but even Gandalf got outnumbered a couple of times.”

Tony continues to ramble about the party, about the New Year’s plans, about his elaborate prank on Rhodey, about how Shuri is going to earn Wakanda at least one Nobel prize within a year’s time…and Stephen listens to all of it.

Intently.

Latching his wavering focus on nothing but Tony’s smooth voice and the cool hand that keeps soothing his feverish face with delicate, comforting touches. He’s not sure if it's the physical exhaustion or the unexpected but welcomed feeling of absolute and utter safety but he finds himself slowly fading into a disturbed slumber.

 

 

From that point on, he can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t. He wakes up screaming again, the pain back with full force, threatening his sanity with every passing moment of it. In a rare second of awareness, Stephen attempts a last resort astral projection which is a more spiritual rather than magical feat but immediately regrets it as the pain somehow manages to double that very instant.

 _Bad idea_ , he thinks before succumbing to the darkness, welcoming it nonetheless.

Drifting in and out of consciousness, he tries to hang on to reality but for some reason it’s harder and harder every time he tries even when the pain is dulled and manageable again. He can hear Tony’s voice like it’s coming from miles away and not directly above him. The words are lost to him more often than not and the ones he picks up are out of context and meaningless. All but one.

 _Stephen_.

Tony has a way with saying his name – not that Stephen noticed or pondered it on many occasions in the past, no.

Definitely not.

It intrigues him though. He says it with intent. Each syllable of it pronounced like a magical formula, each little sound of which matters. He never plays around with it.

 _Doctor Wizard, Strange Doctor, Mystic Man_ , sure. But whenever _Stephen_ comes out, it’s just that.

Nothing more or less than what it is. No funny prolonging or added words, no cutesy shortcuts or nicknames – as if calling him _Steve_ was ever an option – just Stephen.

But he totally never thought about Tony saying his name. Nope. Or how much he enjoys the sound of it. How it sparks something in his guts that’s not magic at all.

And then there’s this _Stephen_. And he hates the sound of it.

It’s just as intense as usual but for all the wrong reasons. It rings in his ears like Monday morning alarm bells. Instead of a warm spark, it stabs cruel icicles through and through his soul. It’s harsh. Desperate. Broken and scared.

No. It’s downright terrified. And he can’t stand the sound of it as it calls out to him.

He claws against the darkness he keeps on slipping into, claws and pounds and scratches but it doesn’t let him emerge and erase that horrible sound from existence. Tell Tony it’s alright. Reassure him. Hold him. Even though he is. He knows he’s holding onto his hand and that it’s holding him right back almost as fiercely.  

The only thing he can do is hold on and pray the far away heart-wrenching ‘ _Please don’t die_ ’ is just a figment of his delirious mind.

 

 

When the darkness eventually clears and he stirs to awareness, he finds to his outmost relief and a little bit of surprise that the pain is gone, replaced by the sort of soreness one gets after a full day of exercising.

“Finally,” he hears a sigh from somewhere in the room and Stephen alerts to someone shuffling in his general direction. His blurry vision settles on Wong’s typical resting bitch face hovering over him and recognizes the dimly lit space of his own Sanctum bedroom. “Thought you we going to sleep through the winter.”

 _Thought I was going to sleep forever_ , he muses for a second before the events of his failed mission come rushing back to him.

Trapped. Burried. _Dying_.

“Hey now, relax. You’re in the Sanctum, you’re okay. Everyone is okay,” he adds, face cracking with concern. “We got you out two days ago.”

“Tony?” he rasps and tries clearing his throat.

“Is downstairs with the rest of the Avengers,” Wong replies patiently and hands him a glass of water.

With a groan, he stretches his exhausted muscles and pulls himself up into a sitting position, accepting the drink. “The…the trap…there was…”

“A second one, I know. We had a similar encounter but I got lucky. Turns out the kid’s got some serious sixth sense thing and picked up on it. If I knew you’d have one of those too I would have warned you. No, I _should_ have warned you anyway.”

“ _I_ should have noticed it…”

“Strange, there was nothing you could do. Especially once that thing triggered. When we got the call from Rhodes, I honestly expected to find you _both_ dead,” he narrows his eyes at him. “Guess you got lucky too,” he adds in a whisper.

Lucky is not the word. If Tony wasn’t there with him…

“DOCTOR WIZARD!” Peter bursts through the door, dressed all casual, red and gold Christmas tree chains hanging around his neck like a Hawaiian necklace. “I thought I heard you so I ran up here right away!” he adds, catching his breath.

“What did I say about running in the Sanctum?” Wong berates the kid and as usual it has no effect at all.

“We’re all downstairs getting everything ready for the party!” Peter ignores Wong and talks to him instead. “Almost done with the tree now but dinner is on hold. Vision forgot potatoes and now all the shops are closed and it’s the biggest crises since we found only one socket to plug like a bazillion of Christmas lights into,” he grins.

“What do you mean you’re _all downstairs_?” Stephen squints at the teen.

Peter looks over to Wong for help, making the sorcerer sigh. “You slept through Christmas which is apparently a great offence, so this kid packed up the party and brought it over here for when you wake up.”

“Well…it’s not like we could have an Avengers Christmas party without all the Avengers!”

Stephen is seconds away from opening his mouth and arguing that not all the Avengers are going to be in there anyway – but Wong sends him one of his rare murder glares so he quickly thinks better of it.

Excluding the rogues, they’re still missing Doctor Banner and Thor seems busy with his own problems on Asgard as well, just as T’Challa has a kingdom to take care of. Plus the fact the latter two wouldn’t really have a reason to celebrate Christmas in the first place would still not be enough of an argument for the kid and his pout.

“Why don’t we let the man rest some more and go finish the tree,” Wong suggests, shooing the teen out of the room.

“What do you mean rest? He slept for two days straight already!”

“Let’s go, Peter.”

“But…but…”

Wong all but drags the sputtering teen out, popping his head back inside a moment later. “I mean it Strange, go back to sleep. The party obviously isn’t going anywhere.”

He couldn’t care less about the party. Now that he’s seen both Wong and Peter are alright, he has to go make sure Tony is too. He _needs_ to.

As if hearing his inner turmoil, Wong’s murder face intensifies. “You almost died. I swear if you show your face downstairs before dusk I will trap you in the mirror dimension for a week! If Stark doesn’t shoot you off into space before that. Go on, roll your eyes all you want. I’m not joking.”

He slips out with a meaningful look that does nothing to quench his worry. That and the unspoken absence of the Cloak make it very difficult to fall back asleep even if his body is almost begging for more rest still.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The last chapter will come up on Wednesday ^^ 
> 
> About how exactly the two of them survived the ''cave-in'', I'm pulling the Bleeding Edge armor shield card there. I'm still waiting for the Blu-ray of Infinity War to come out so I can rewatch the Thanos battle in detail (not to mention all the IronStrange bits :3) but if I remember two things clear as day, it's how Thanos sent an entire goddamn moon down on Tony and it had pretty much zero effect - so the purple grape sent a full blast of the Power stone at him and he freakin' blocked it with a shield...like...dude. If he can block the Power stone with it, I'm willing to bet on a lil' bit of magic too ^^
> 
> Bleeding Edge armor is too stronk. (like so stronk Thanos's last resort try to kill Tony was WITH the armor :'D That scene scared me shitless but it also made me inappropriately laugh few moments later after Thanos went to Earth and punched everyone out of his way in seconds :D There was so much hype about that Cap Grab like 'oh Cap so stronk he gon' fuck Thanos up with his bare hands' and uhhh...yeah :D The Titan crew made Thanos sweat and bleed...the Earth crew, not so much :D)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! With Wednesday comes the final chapter of the final angst train stop before IW ^^ Next time, we're taking the express to Fluffville to get ready for all the angst hell ahead, so without further ado, enjoy! <3

When he descents to the Sanctum’s middle floor later that evening, feeling rejuvenated but anxious, his eyes are attacked by about a million flashing Christmas lights hung all over the walls, ceiling and even the displays holding the ancient magical relics. The lounge area is filled with a very much real pine tree, overflowing with decorations so tacky it actually makes him cringe.

The Avengers, Happy, Pepper, the Ned kid, Wong and a few of their sorcerer associates are gathered by the coffee table, sipping on eggnog and chatting. It’s such a bizarre scene in the Sanctum, so festive and…domestic. One he hadn’t seen since before moving out of his parents’ house.

The Cloak spots him first, giving him a little wave from where he’s hovering next to Tony, also holding a cup and even pretending to be drinking from it. He’s covered by tree decorations, even wearing a Santa hat as well and somehow he doesn’t seem to mind.

Still a weirdo.

Just as Wong said, everyone is fine - including Tony. Or he at least appears to be, until his gaze flickers over to Stephen and the little smile he’s wearing suddenly freezes.

“Oh hey, it’s the man of the hour! Sleeping wizard!” Rhodey greets him, raising his cup in a salute. “Good to see you up and about, Doc!”

“Come join us, Doctor,” Vision points at a free armchair. “Mr. Leeds has just been telling us about a school prank he and Mr. Parker committed two weeks ago.”

“Dude, how cool is _he_?! He keeps calling us Misters!” Ned whispers to Peter – or tries anyway, since it comes out loud enough for everyone to hear.

“And he’s the only one who calls Peter Spider _man_ , because he just doesn’t know any better,” Tony shrugs, his attention completely off Stephen.

“But I _am_ Spider _man_!”

“Of course you are, Spiderling,” Happy chuckles.

“ _Man_!”

“Spiderbug.”

“Spider _man_!”

“Spiderbaby?”

“STOP! It’s…Mr. Stark! Tell him to use my proper made up name!”

Tony clears his throat, leveling Happy with a mock stern expression. “Mister Hogan? Please refer to Mister Parker with his proper made up name.”

“Fine. Spiderteen then,” Happy adds with a grin.

“ARGH!” Peter flails while the adults and his best friend all laugh.

Stephen shuffles to the free seat and accepts a fresh cup of the disgustingly sweet beverage, mingling with the group.

The décor is an eyesore and the wide array of Christmas treats and snacks ranges from disgusting to somewhat acceptable, but all in all it isn’t what Stephen expected when Tony first said the words ‘Avengers Christmas party’. Mostly due to the man’s history of throwing wild and overcrowded parties…that he usually ends up avoiding.

Perhaps this scarce, familial setting is Tony’s real scene after all.

He can only guess, because the engineer successfully ignores him the entire evening. He still joins in the discussions and quips with Rhodey and Peter, but when it comes to Stephen he’s almost stubbornly silent. Where he would normally make fun retorts at his expense or initiate teasing banters, he says nothing.

And Tony Stark’s silence is ten thousand times more deafening than his rambling.

Whatever is behind it, it’s disturbing and leaves Stephen more on edge than before joining the party. With the exception of the initial once over, Tony doesn’t even spare him a look. For _hours_.

By the time the company starts breaking up - the kids heading home, the sorcerers back to Kamar-Taj, Pepper and Happy who knows where and Vision probably getting stuck between a wall somewhere – Stephen feels like dying again.

Instead of having fun – not that he expected to have too much of it after the entire week’s ordeal – he can’t stop thinking about what he’s done so wrong that Tony’s giving him the most silent of treatments. Obviously it must have something to do with what happened in Canada, but what exactly is the issue might as well be the biggest mystery of the year for Stephen.

Being the opportunist he is, when Tony retires to the kitchenette across the Sanctum with a mumbled “Where’s the coffee around here?”, Stephen shadows after him, immediately discarding the thought of just portalling there first.

The Cloak wraps around him for the first time since he’s woken up buried in that damn hole few days ago, giving him a few empty plates – like an alibi for going to the kitchen.

Stephen takes them with a profound frown aimed at the apparel, once again questioning the sheer extent of its sentiency. “I should just name you Weirdo and be done with it,” he whispers, slipping into the kitchen as quiet as he can.

On second thoughts, he should have made at least some noise if Tony’s instant flinch is any hint. “What are _you_ lurking in the dark here for?!” the engineer scolds him, palm spread over his chest.

It’s the first thing Tony _actually_ tells him tonight, so Stephen takes it with a shrug. “Cleaning up,” he brings up the evidence the Cloak has provided and makes a show of walking over to the sink to place the plates down there. As if they didn’t have magic for that.

Then again, they have magic for tea and coffee but Stephen prefers to brew his own anyway. And so does Tony, who turns his attention back to the boiling water after giving Stephen a subtle glare.

Just the thought of a pot of boiling water being more of an interesting company than him is enough to break something in Stephen, so he almost throws the plates down with a loud clank and whirls around to face the man clearly hell-bent on ignoring him tonight.

“Okay, I can’t take this anymore, you win. I give up. No, I _surrender_! What is going on?”

Tony looks at him with a perfect mask of innocent nonchalance plastered over his face and shrugs. “Nothing. Why?”

“Wh - ” Stephen cuts himself off, making a quick double take at the man. “You’re ignoring me,” he blurts out, the only reply to it being one raised eyebrow from the engineer. “You’ve been ignoring me the entire evening.”

“Oh I’m sorry, I haven’t realized wizards were such self-centered divas. Not everything is about _you_ , you know?” he shoots back and it’s the closest thing to their usual banter that’s come out of Tony’s mouth that night, but it lacks the usual undertone of jest. Instead it sounds almost…malicious.

“Yes, I do actually know that,” he crosses his arms, remembering the very same words once spoken to him by the Ancient One. “But this is, isn’t it? This is about me. So what is it? What did I do?”

Matching the defiant glint Stephen’s been projecting this whole time, Tony just shrugs again and repeats the accursed: “Nothing.”

He takes a breath but instead of sputtering the angry words on the edge of his tongue, he closes his eyes for a moment and exhales. The last thing he wants to do, the last thing of all last things right now, is to pick a fight with Tony. “Look…,” he takes one more calming breath and deflates his posture. “I don’t want to argue with you. Not tonight. Preferably not tomorrow or the day after that either.

This…Christmas party of yours was surprisingly mild, in a good way and enjoyable – or would be if you were enjoying it as well, which you weren’t…what I mean is, I don’t want to escalate this, whatever this is, into something bigger than it needs to be - and I am a master of doing that by the way, Christine could tell you all about it. Unlike the past, I am not above admitting my wrongs but first I would need to know what wrongs am I admitting to and apologizing for.

And if you won’t tell me then…I guess it’s supposed to be obvious. Is it obvious? Have I missed something? I have, haven’t I. Great. So much for my self-proclaimed observational skills. And now I’m rambling, that’s even better. I only do that when I’m nervous. Doesn’t happen often, mind you. But you look ready to murder me or blast me off to space just as Wong said and I thought he was kidding but you _are_ and I don’t know what to do or say or - ”

“You did nothing wrong.”

It’s said so quietly Stephen wonders for a second if he really heard it right. Tony is fiddling with an empty coffee cup, the pot of already boiled water standing forgotten on the stove. His expression continues to be carefully neutral, still refusing to look at him. When it seems the engineer isn’t planning on explaining any further, Stephen decides to get to the bottom of it no matter what kind of bottom he’s about to discover.

“Then why? I don’t…I don’t understand, Tony. Just please, please help me understand?”

Maybe it’s the nearly embarrassing pleading tone or the step forward he makes towards Tony, but it finally spurts a reaction from him. He shoves the empty cup across the counter, letting it slide until it harmlessly hits the wall and then he whirls around to face Stephen, eyes ablaze.

“Help you _understand_?! And what exactly do you need help with?” he pierces him with a glare that almost makes Stephen back off.

But he doesn’t. He can’t. He’ll stubbornly stand his ground and take whatever Tony shoots at him if it brings him closer to understanding.

“The part where you almost get obliterated by some shit gnome prank trap that brings down a ten story building down on us? The part where you wake up screaming five times like someone’s slowly pulling you apart?! Or the part where you forget to fucking mention that you’re slowly _dying_ and then pass the fuck out for the rest of the day?!” he yells, spit flying everywhere but it’s the tears glistening in the usually fierce eyes that freeze Stephen on the spot.

Oh.

“ _You don’t understand_ ,” he mumbles sarcastically, a nasty grimace spreading over his face. “No shit, Sherlock! You weren’t the one stuck in a two by two dark and cold cave hole with a screaming and dying wizard for a day, having no idea what to do or how to help or if the next hour is gonna be the one where it’s just me, the Cloak and a fucking corpse in there! Winter holidays, yay!” he flails, letting out a high pitched chuckle. “My _favorite_! Merry fucking Christmas! Sure! Sip on eggnog, open up presents, bury dead parents, gush over the ugly decorated tree, wait for Santa…great! Fucking _perfect_!” he laughs almost hysterically, backing up against the wall. “A cold, dark cave – that’s a check. A vision of another winter holidays spent attending a funeral - check. Me not being able to do shit about it? A big fat check right there! So now that I don’t have to sleep for the next few months unless I want to enjoy my own personal panic-filled nightmare hell – _again_ – I’ll be at least able to do some work in the labs for a change. I’m big on looking at the bright side of everything. You understood all that or will FRIDAY have to make it into a presentation?!”

Stephen blinks, trying to chase away the absolute terror he feels on the inside right now – one that mirrors itself off of Tony’s eyes.

He _does_ understand. And perhaps he was better off not understanding for once.

A self-centered wizard…maybe that’s exactly what he is if he somehow forgot about the fact that what felt like a delirious moment to him were torturous, lonely and helpless hours for Tony.

Tony, who could have fooled everyone with his calm and collected façade back then. Sure as hell fooled Stephen with it when he was awake enough that one and only time. Stephen might have been the one being literally taken apart but Tony was torn all the same, alone with all the things of his worst nightmares to haunt him.

How could he forget for one second that Tony goddamn Stark never shows weakness, never falls apart and never fails to blame himself for every bad thing that happens to anything and anyone within his vicinity.

Always solid and strong like iron. Until it corrodes away into dust, leaving the man exposed and vulnerable. To live and to deal with it alone, the way he’s used to.

Stephen can relate to all of it.

The need to stay strong on the outside for everyone to see. To hide and deny all weaknesses. To scream and shout and scare away anyone bold enough to try and uncover it anyway and break the habit.

He won’t be scared away that easily.

“I’m not dead, Tony,” he says and it’s his time to be the calm and steady one, his quiet and soft tone balancing Tony’s loud and angry one.

No. Not angry. _Worried_.

Tony sputters something, shaking his head. “Could’ve fooled me.”

“Maybe _you_ don’t understand,” Stephen purses his lips and takes a step toward him with his newly found determination. “I’m not dead _because_ of you. _Thanks_ to _you_.” When it only makes the engineer shake his head some more, he continues. “You and your stupidly overpowered armor that _somehow_ protected us from centuries old flare of magic that should have killed us – or me, definitely. You and your survival improv skills – I mean who would have thought the Cloak makes such a great campfire? You and your emergency med kits without which I would be dead in hours for sure. That day is very hazy for me but I do know one thing,” he pauses, chancing one step closer, just shy of bursting the man’s personal bubble. “I know you saved me. I know I’m standing here right now because _you_ were there with me that day. You did everything you could. And I’m alive because of that. Because of you and only you. And a little bit of Wong I guess, but let’s not give him too much credit, he already thinks he’s the Beyoncé of sorcerers,” he cracks a broken grin, watching Tony look up at him.

“If you say so,” he shrugs, but instead of it sounding persuaded or upbeat, it’s defeat. Like he’s saying ‘yeah, whatever’.

“Oh I _do say so_ and I will continue to say so until it drills through your thick, Stark skull!”

Tony sighs, apparently still not on board for banter. “Good luck with that.”

“Tony,” he breathes out and reaches for the engineer’s hand, but as soon as it makes the mildest of contact with the forearm, Tony jerks back with a wannabe controlled flinch. “Wh…are you hurt?” Stephen asks, snapping into doctor mode faster than his brain can register.

“S’nothing,” he says – of course – and cradles the limb with his other hand.

“Show me.”

“S’nothing, I’m telling you! Just…leave it be,” Tony swats his prying fingers away.

Stephen narrows his eyes at him but doesn’t fight him, just leaves his palm extended, waiting. “Give it here. It’s not nothing and I’m your doctor so stop acting like a ten year old at the dentist’s and show me.”

Tony looks up to the ceiling as if he was trying to call upon some higher powers, but places his hand in Stephen’s in the end, looking away. “Knock yourself out….”

Ignoring the comment, he goes straight to work, rolling up the sleeve to inspect the damage. Most of it is hidden under a gauze that at least looks like Tony didn’t put it there himself. The patchwork isn’t enough to hide the ugly, colorful bruising in a weirdly hand-shaped pattern he recognizes instantly.

As well as he should, since he’s the one who put _that_ there. _He_ did that.

All he can do for the longest time is stare at the carnage of his own making. The forearm, the wrist, even the fingers didn’t escape the damaging grip of Stephen’s very own hand. “I hurt you,” he whispers in disbelieve. Because he would _never_ –

“Okay, before you start freaking out - ”

“Too late! _I_ did this!” he interrupts him, not able to stop staring at the hand he’s keeping a gentle hold of. “I…why would you let me do this?!”

“Why would I…,” Tony cuts himself off and apparently performs an emergency restart, because the next sentence comes out way more like oh-you-wanna-start-okay-let’s-start Tony and a lot less like I-never-wanna-see-you-again-go-away Tony. “You were _dying_ , you asshole! You think I gave a crap about my hand?!”

“It’s your _hand_!”

“So what?! I have another one!” he brings up his right, waving it in front of Stephen’s face. “My left is my shit hand anyway, you have any idea what that thing has been through already?”

“Well that makes it all okay then! Remind me all about it when they have to cut it off!”

“Dude. Your grip is pretty tight, but you’re not the Hulk. They’re not cutting my hand off because you went a bit touchy on it! And even if they were, I would design myself a bionic hand so cool it would make Barnes drool all over it with jealousy! Huh…maybe I should just cut it off and do that anyway, sounds worth it.”

“That’s…ugh…that’s not even funny, let alone relevant!” Stephen gapes at the man. “ _I hurt you_!”

“Did not!”

“Yes, I did! I’m staring at the proof that I did!”

“You were in pain! Did you want me to smack your hand away and yell at you or what?!”

“YES!” he blurts out, knowing how little sense he’s making. “I…,” he sighs, carefully letting go of the hand. He’s already done enough to it and no amount of doctoring could help now anyway. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he sees Tony shrug out of the corner of his eyes and chances a glance up at him.

He has no idea what expression that is on Tony’s face just then, but he wants it gone. There’s no anger or pain; his eyes are searching his, filled with guarded tears and widened with fear. _So much fear_.

Whatever it is Tony finds, it makes him lower the last veil of defenses and the tears spring free down his cheeks. He takes a tiny, slow step forward and then another even slower, as if giving Stephen enough time to back off, because when he makes the third, his face disappears in the blue of Stephen’s robes on his chest and his hands sneak underneath the Cloak and around his torso, taking a light but desperate hold of him.

“Just…please…” he hears Tony mumble and the plea behind it brings tears to his own eyes as well as memories he thought were just nightmares.

 

_“Please don’t die.”_

_“Please don’t leave me alone in here.”_

_“Please don’t let go. Just don’t let go.”_

 

By the time Wong got to the two of them back in Canada, Stephen must have been completely out of it, not even a slither of awareness and barely any strength left in him.

The only notable proof of him still being alive would be his ever so weakening hold of Tony’s hand. So the man pleaded with him time and time again to keep holding on to it, no matter the pain, no matter the bruises already coloring his forearm…for as long as Stephen kept his grip, Tony could tell he was still alive.

Stephen didn’t let go then. And he won’t let go now.

He shifts a little to maneuver Tony’s head into a more comfortable position between his shoulder and chin and wraps his arms around the man, holding him just tight enough to be felt. The Cloak mimics the motion, pulling Tony just a slither closer into their combined embrace.

Tony lets his head be nestled in the crook of Stephen’s neck, his entire form trembling with small sobs as floods of tears fall and disappear on the Cloak, while Stephen’s quiet ones get caught in Tony’s hair.

Words are suddenly stuck on their way out of Stephen’s mouth – what is there to say anyway? That he’s sorry? For hurting Tony, for almost making him relive the worst days of his teenage life, for bringing back memories of Afghanistan, for triggering that damn trap in the first place?

He could say that, yes. And it wouldn’t serve any purpose at all because he could stand here till the end of times and keep saying sorry but the words would be meaningless to the man.

No amount of I’m sorry’s is going to change what happened. So instead of saying something potentially stupid, he holds him close, shaking palm running a soothing circle on his back.

In that moment of quiet tears and ragged breaths, Stephen wonders when was the last time he indulged in such a simple yet comforting contact. The last time he actually wanted to, even.

The answer to that thought almost chokes the breath out of him, the realization so comical it lights his apparently dead brain cells up like it’s the 4th of July and not just Christmas.

A brilliant neurosurgeon with numerous doctorates, the badass Sorcerer Supreme fighting inter-dimensional foes on weekly basis…at the end of the day, he can throw the doctorates out of the window and give his magical title to Wong instead, because in reality – he’s a moron.

Complete and utter moron.

He’s been staring the answer in the face for months like a preschooler staring at a Picasso, having no idea why everyone’s face is a triangle.

“ _How much more obvious you’ll have to get for you to notice_.”

Pretty damn obvious as it turns out.

He chokes out a broken laugh, smoothing Tony’s hair with his other hand when the man startles at the sound.

Leave it to him to entirely miss the fact that _Tony_ is the answer. To a lot of questions he’s been asking lately. Other people’s questions too!

 

_“So why did you agree to become part of the Avengers if it’s such a bother as you keep saying?”_

_“Sorry, I just assumed he was going blind or something! Why else would you hold his hand going through every portal today?”_

_“You do realize the Compound is a Hulk-proof fortress guarded by a low-key vengeful AI, right? So what if the Captain America sighting in New York wasn’t a hoax, it’s not like FRIDAY needs you to lend her a hand with blowing that guy from here to Mars if he breaks the perimeter.”_

_“Yes, the lady was an old, grumpy hag but why exactly did you try to send her to the Dark Dimension after she announced to the entire - very amused might I add - McDonald’s that the Avengers are scumbags and Tony Stark is the worst of them all? Didn’t know you cared.”_

 

Fucking Wong. Wong - of all the people in this damn dimension – probably knew since Hong Kong.

Stephen _cares_.

That’s not some mind-blowing revelation – he had cared about great many things in the past. His career. His patients. His social status. His brand new car…all the superficial things that made him all giddy back in the days before he lost all of them and thought he wouldn’t give a damn about anything ever again.

And then there’s Tony Stark. The genius, billionaire…whatever he likes telling people about himself. To Stephen he’s just Tony. The man he apparently cares about so much his brain wasn’t capable of realizing it until now.

No matter how far into the past he goes, there had never once been a moment in which he didn’t care about Tony.

Even as far as their first meeting at the ER after the Battle of New York goes, where he didn’t even recognize the man, he cared about the nonsensical but funny patient who turned out to be an _idiot_ that would first go visit hospitals around town to give them funds and emergency manpower instead of visiting one to treat his damn injuries.

Stephen checked. Of _course_ he did and _why_? _Because he cared_. Already. And the caring only escalated from there on.

And now, few days after what’s been a living hell for both of them, standing in the dreary Sanctum’s kitchen, holding onto each other for dear life, Stephen might have to admit that ‘caring’ might no longer be the word to describe exactly what this is.

But that’s a thought for a completely different time and place.

 

They stay like this for a long time, Stephen’s feet getting weary and numb, but he always just shifts a little in their position to resettle and refuses to let go until Tony does. Even when the sobs quiet down completely and the tears are reduced to lonely droplets, Tony makes no move to disentangle from the embrace. He just rests his head on Stephen’s other shoulder, facing the now probably cold pot of water and all but melts into Stephen’s hold.

At one point, Stephen alerts to a subtle movement in his peripheral vision and fittingly enough, he spots Vision slowly phasing through the wall literally two feet away from the door…because he can so why wouldn’t he?

The android stops mid-phase, observing the scene with raised nonexistent eyebrows for a moment before a tiny smile curves his lips and without even turning around, he just slowly phases right back into the wall, giving Stephen an extremely knowing look.

Did _everyone_ know but him?!

Tony sniffles and pulls away just enough to look around. “W’s that Vision?” he blurts out and clears his throat. “He’s just having a laugh now, phasing through the walls all willy-nilly even though he damn well understands doors,” he complains but chuckles, never quite able to be mad at the android.

“He looked lost. One of these days, he’s going to phase through a wall that leads to the mirror dimension and _then_ we’ll see if he learns to respect the concept of doors or not,” Stephen smirks, enjoying how closely he can inspect Tony’s eyes just then.  

There’s an upward twitch to his lips before he bows his head and steps away, using a sleeve to clean the remnants of the tears off his face.

Before Stephen can sadly ponder the sudden emptiness in his arms, the Cloak swats Tony’s hands away and does the cleaning himself, making Stephen laugh the instant Tony pouts and just lets the Cloak do his thing.

Arguing with the Cloak is like arguing with Peter. Pointless.

“Thank you,” Stephen whispers, locking his eyes with hazel ones. He could specify, hell he could go on and on about everything that he’s thankful for right now but he doesn’t have to.

Tony understands.

“Hello?!” Wong’s voice rings through the corridor outside. “Anyone in here?! Rhodes found the endless pint of beer and already drank it down three times, someone better come in there to deal with that!”

They roll their eyes in sync and Tony lets out a scoff. “Great. I believe that’s my cue to go and deal with my drunken best friend. The last time he drank three beers in a row was on MIT and he almost vomited his way through finals the next day.”

“There’s also an endless bottle of vodka somewhere in there, so…”

“What the hell?! What is this, Sanctum Drinkorum?! No wonder you all love locking yourselves up in here if you’ve got endless supply of booze disguised as relics!”

“They _are_ relics! Some are just…more useful than others,” Stephen grins, giving the Cloak a look.

“I agree. The Cloak is definitely more useful than an endless pint of beer.”

“That’s what I meant!”

Tony doesn’t buy it for a second. “Uhuh,” he hums with a grin of his own. “I’m on my way!” he calls after Wong and disappears in the hallway with the Cloak – clearly offended now – fluttering after him.

“Traitor,” he scoffs, but can’t get rid of the smile nor the warmth wrapping around his soul like a comfy heat blanket.

Tonight, he’ll simply revel in that and leave the freaking out part for tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for your amazing and lovely feedback, be it a comment or kudos! I am humbled by your words and ever so excited to see fellow IronStrangers around here! <3 We are growing strong! (hopefully not like House Tyrell, them growing strong didn't go that well :D oh well, wrong fandom XD)
> 
>  
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> [My tumblr thingie...](http://lantia.tumblr.com)
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> 
> PS: In case anyone's wondering about Pepper, there is zero Pepperoni in this verse (as interesting as it would get from here on if I stuck to canon mmmhmmm soo much angst :D). As much as I love Pepper and Pepperoni itself, I once again can't stand for MCU's blatant inability to establish and deal with relationships and therefore will not tolerate the shit they pulled in Homecoming. Or Civil War for that matter.  
> Pepper deserves better than be some cheap plot toy to be proposed to as some last resort to ditch some reporters. Fuck that and eternal shame on the scriptwriter, their family and their cow for writing that bit in thinking it was kewl or funneh. Damn dude...


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